


let's go west

by gdragon (gdgdbaby)



Category: Big Bang (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdgdbaby/pseuds/gdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You aren't dying. You just can't think of anything good to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's go west

**Author's Note:**

> ferris bueller's day off/sunset glow au. set circa 2007, though the boys' ages have been fudged a little for consistency's sake. apologies for errors re: south korean schooling, i kind of played that fast and loose. written for advent. originally posted at [livejournal](http://gdgdbaby.livejournal.com/100581.html).

Youngbae's voice echoes down the line when he finally picks up on the other end. He coughs twice and barks out a scratchy "What do you want?" like he's trying to pierce Jiyong's eardrums straight through the speakerphone.

Jiyong blinks and adjusts his tie in the mirror. "Hey. Get up and come over."

"I'm sick, man."

Jiyong rolls his eyes. "No, you're not."

Youngbae coughs again, pointedly.

"Don't be such a drama queen," Jiyong says, and ignores the indignant sputters he receives in response.

"I'm dying," Youngbae says after a moment. Jiyong can hear the sullen frown in his voice.

"You aren't dying," he counters smoothly. "You just can't think of anything good to do." He grins into the mirror. "Luckily, you've got me."

 

 

Youngbae and Seunghyun have two months left before college entrance exams, which means it's the best time to skip school for a day. This is what Jiyong says, at least, when he opens his front door and Youngbae's slouched against the wall, bags beneath his eyes from studying too much.

"What are you planning?" Youngbae asks, rubbing his face. Jiyong pours him a glass of orange juice and slides it over the kitchen table.

"Just a couple of small things," Jiyong says vaguely. "Eat your breakfast."

 

 

"You want to _what_?" Seungri hisses, waving them into the spacious living room of his house and slamming the door shut behind them.

"Your parents are out of town, right?" Jiyong says, arm slung over Youngbae's shoulder, piece of toast still hanging out of his mouth.

"So you want to steal my dad's Bentley? Are you crazy? That thing is his baby—"

"I like to think of it more as temporary appropriation," Jiyong replies, grinning. "You know where the keys are, don't you?"

Seungri looks torn. "That's not the point."

Jiyong narrows his eyes. "Hey, I'm sure the high school would be interested in knowing that one of their first-years was playing hooky just because his parents weren't around."

"But—what—neither of you are there today either," Seungri sputters.

"True," Jiyong says, tilting his head, "but we also aren't about to break ten unexcused absences like you are."

Seungri goes pale as a sheet. "How did you—"

"Never mind," Jiyong says cheerily. "Keys?"

 

 

"Why are you dressed like that, anyway?" Seungri says in the garage, watching nervously as Jiyong pops the top off the convertible.

Jiyong hops into the driver's seat and leans over to adjust his tie again in the rearview mirror. "I'm gonna go pick Seunghyun up."

"How are you going to manage that?" Youngbae asks dubiously, eyebrows cocked high.

"The key," Jiyong insists, "is confidence."

 

 

The front desk receptionist is nearly in tears by the time Jiyong's finished spinning his tale of woe. "I'll get Seunghyun-sshi straightaway," she says, pressing a hand against her chest.

"There's no hurry," Jiyong says, voice haggard. "I'll be waiting out by the car."

"Nice ride," Seunghyun says when he comes out, backpack slung over a shoulder, school uniform buttoned up all the way. "Which story did you use?"

"Your dad was mauled by a tiger while out on assignment," Jiyong says cheerfully. "I'm a distant cousin who came to collect you for the funeral."

Seunghyun rolls his eyes. "What's the real occasion?"

"How could we possibly be expected to handle school on a day like this?" he asks, and opens the passenger's seat for him.

Seunghyun slides in against the red leather seat, impressed. "I didn't know you had a driver's license."

"Technically, I don't," Jiyong admits, gunning the engine. "Don't tell Seungri."

Daesung's materialized in Seungri's living room when they get back. He's lounging on the couch and sipping a cup of tea as they walk in, swapping soccer news with Youngbae.

"How did you get out?" Jiyong asks, shrugging his suit jacket off and loosening his tie. Seunghyun goes to the bathroom to change out of his school clothes. "We were going to retrieve you next."

"I have my ways," Daesung says, waggling his eyebrows. "So. Where are we going?"

"West," says Jiyong.

 

 

They pack two bags and stow them in the backseat, with Seungri squashed in between Daesung and Youngbae. It takes them an hour to get out of the city—and then it's smooth sailing straight to the beach, sun beating down from overhead, the wind almost blowing Jiyong's wide-brimmed straw hat off at every hairpin turn.

"Hey, look," Jiyong says at one point, putting his arms up and stretching as they cruise. "No hands."

Seungri yelps and shoves his shoulder. "Hyung, what the fuck—"

"We're all going to die," Youngbae mutters.

They make it to the Yellow Sea before noon, park the car, air out blankets, and pitch an umbrella for shade. It's a weekday morning, so most of the people out on the beach are foreigners, parents with little kids, and old men playing long games of go. "I feel like a delinquent," Seungri whines.

Jiyong rolls his eyes. "You're the one who wanted to come with us because we were taking your dad's car. _Didn't want to miss out on the fun_ , you said."

"I was under duress!"

Seunghyun snorts. "You might as well enjoy the sun while you're here."

Daesung flings a wad of seaweed at Seungri and narrowly misses, which begins a fierce four-way battle (to the shock and dismay of all the tourists in their general vicinity) that doesn't end until Youngbae comes back with five sodas.

Seunghyun stops trying to pick kelp out of his hair and dodges the Coke Youngbae tosses at him. "Shit, I thought you were throwing more sand at me," he says lamely over Jiyong and Seungri's sniggers. He bends down to scoop it up and wipes the cap clean.

"Wait—" Daesung says when Seunghyun moves to open it, but it's too late: Coke sprays out in an arc straight at Jiyong, who wipes his face and gasps.

"Oh, it's on," Jiyong says, shaking his bottle vigorously.

"Those were meant to be _drunk_ ," Youngbae yells, to no avail.

 

 

Afterwards, they strip out of their soaked shirts and run straight into the sea, saltwater washing the stickiness away. Seunghyun just jumps in clothing and all, dragged down by their waterlogged weight, waves cresting over his head.

Youngbae lounges underneath the umbrella, English workbook in hand. "I can't believe you snuck that out here," Jiyong says later, dripping all over it. "This is supposed to be your day off."

"College exams wait for no man," Youngbae says drily. "You'll get it next year."

 

 

For lunch, Jiyong leads them to a swanky place further inland. "This looks really expensive," Seungri says, wringing his hands.

"Didn't I tell you?" Jiyong peeks at the maître d's reservation book and leans back as the snooty-looking host strides out to meet them. "Confidence is key. Watch and learn."

"Hello, do you have a reservation?" the man asks, staring down his nose at them. 

Jiyong smiles winningly. "It should be under G-Dragon, 1PM, party of five?"

The host takes in Jiyong's attire (the soggy shirt, the sand in his hair, the over-large sunglasses perched askew over his straw hat) and snorts derisively. " _You're_ G-Dragon? Do you really expect me to believe that?"

Jiyong puts on an offended expression. "What do you mean? Are you suggesting that I'm not who I say I am?"

Seunghyun grabs his arm. "Come on, GD, it's fine, we'll just go somewhere else—"

"No," Jiyong snaps. "I want my reservation."

"Sir, please calm down," the host says, frowning.

"We'd like to be seated," Jiyong says loudly. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Seungri cringe behind Youngbae. Daesung's watching the entire exchange like it's a Ping-Pong match, gaze darting back and forth between them.

The host exhales. "If you keep making a scene I'll be forced to call the police."

Jiyong laughs, incredulous. "Call the police? _On me_?"

"Don't think I won't," he replies ominously.

"You know what?" Jiyong says, reaching over the desk. "I'll call the police for you. They can come down here and see who's being unreasonable, for all I care."

The host's frown deepens as Jiyong punches in the numbers. A light flickers on in the corner of the phone console—the second line's gone off. "Give me the phone, I have another call coming in."

He reaches out and Jiyong recoils, a dark look on his face. "Touch me and I swear to God, I'll scream _rat_. There's got to be another phone in this place. Go find it."

The host storms off, muttering obscenities under his breath. Youngbae grabs Jiyong's shoulder after he's gone, a disbelieving look on his face. "You're going to get us all arrested!"

"Let's just leave while we're ahead, hyung," Seungri says, nodding vigorously.

"Oh ye of little faith," Jiyong laments, shaking his head. He passes the phone to Seunghyun, who raises his eyebrows. "Do your best Yang Hyunsuk impression, alright?"

An expression of dawning realization crosses Seunghyun's face. He takes the receiver. "Hi, yes, I'd like to speak to G-Dragon. He should be at your restaurant." A pause, and then: "Yes, he's wearing white t-shirt with thin blue stripes, big sunglasses, jean shorts, and a straw hat. He's also _devastatingly_ handsome."

"You shouldn't have," Jiyong says, grinning. "Now, your Yoon Moonsik voice, please."

Seunghyun waits for the line to click, and then—"Kwon-sshi, this is the Incheon police department. How can we help you?"

 

 

They get a table with a view of the ocean, and order fancy things like oysters with truffle sauce and seafood soufflé and plates of grilled salmon. Jiyong bills it all on that G-Dragon guy's tab, to mixed amusement and consternation.

Seungri pats suntan lotion on himself in the afternoon, when the tide's receded. "You know, if we played by the rules, we'd be on our way to hagwon right now?"

"Five guys missing from the same one might be a little suspicious, don't you think?" Youngbae points out.

"Stop worrying," Jiyong says. "We're in different years. They won't even notice."

"Dami will," Daesung says, twirling the little umbrella sticking out of his watermelon juice.

"I'll bring her a seashell or something," he says, waving his hand.

Later, Seungri manages to drag Youngbae out into the ocean through a combination of brute strength and dumping buckets of ocean water over his head until he gets pissed enough to chase him into the spray. Jiyong flops onto one of the blankets and taps Seunghyun's shades. "I know you aren't asleep."

Seunghyun grunts noncommittally. "You're in my light."

"You haven't even taken your clothes off," Jiyong notes. "Tanning your hands and feet, are you?"

Seunghyun sits up and shakes dry sand out of his hair. "Youngbae's right, you know."

Jiyong nudges Seunghyun's leg with a bare foot. "About what?"

"You'll get it next year, when it's your turn to take the suneung."

"You're not supposed to be thinking about that right now," Jiyong says lightly.

"I know," Seunghyun says. "But how can I not? It's in November."

Jiyong sighs. "So where do you wanna go?"

"Dad wants me to get into Seoul University." He shrugs. "I don't know if I can, though. Shit is intense."

"It's not everything, you know," Jiyong says. "Going to a good school, getting a normal job."

"Too bad nobody else is as enlightened as you are," Seunghyun says, voice wry.

Jiyong frowns at his feet. "I'm just saying."

Seunghyun glances at him. "You're the type of person who'd never be content accepting some decent-paying desk job just because it was too boring for you."

"Is that supposed to be a bad thing?" Jiyong says, vaguely irritated.

"No," he replies, crossing his legs. "I just hope you get what you want."

 

 

The sun starts dipping below the horizon at half past six. They pack their shit up and sit out on the sand as their clothes dry, watch the reds and oranges and purples mix in the sky. Jiyong nudges Youngbae in the side. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Youngbae smiles a little, the last rays hitting his face and lighting it up like fireworks. "Yeah," he says, rocking back on his heels. "It is."

"We have an hour to get back to Seoul in time for when hagwon normally lets out," Daesung announces a minute later, hefting their bags.

"Shit, we're going to be late," Seungri wails. Seunghyun ushers them to the car like a gaggle of baby geese.

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Jiyong says, turning the keys in the ignition.

They speed through Incheon, and spin a story about Seunghyun's first child being born in Seoul for a police patrol car that flags them down at the outskirts of the city.

"I can't fucking believe that worked," Youngbae says as they drive away. "Didn't he think it was suspicious that Seunghyun was in a car full of other random dudes?"

"Appeals to pathos will always tug at people's heartstrings," Jiyong explains.

"Also, he really _had_ to make it work, because the policeman would've asked for a license he doesn't have," Seunghyun pipes up.

"Hyung, what the fuck?" Seungri squeaks, clinging onto the backseat for dear life. "This is so illegal."

"Sometimes you have to bend the rules to have fun, dongsaeng," Jiyong says. "Are you all still coming by for dinner?"

"If we make it back in time and don't get busted," Youngbae mutters.

"Oh ye of little faith," Jiyong repeats, and presses his foot down on the accelerator.

 

 

They screech to a stop at the curb in front of Seungri's house at 8PM sharp. They dump the beach bags there and change back into their uniforms, starch-stiff collars and squeaky-clean sneakers, and cut through backyards to get to Jiyong's building. There's a bit of tricky acrobatics they have to do to get around a chain-link fence two blocks away, and Daesung wastes five minutes at the FamilyMart to get a fruit basket for Jiyong's parents, but they get there in the end, out of breath and smelling of the sea.

"How was school?" Dami asks, eyebrows arched high when they walk in and slide into their places at the dinner table. "What did you all do today?"

"Not much," Jiyong says—meets Seunghyun's amused eyes, Seungri's nervous ones, Daesung's smile and Youngbae's exasperated expression—and grins into his rice.


End file.
